


Swiftly Falling (For You)

by magisterpavus



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Avian Keith (Voltron), Avian Shiro (Voltron), Body Worship, First Time, Hero Worship, Hurt/Comfort, Love Confessions, M/M, Soulmates, Switching, Wing Kink, Wingfic, because listen it's both HOT and SHEITH for them to trust each other with holding their wings down
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-15
Updated: 2021-03-15
Packaged: 2021-03-24 00:20:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,277
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30063765
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/magisterpavus/pseuds/magisterpavus
Summary: In moments like these, soaring above the mist-wreathed mountains with Shiro beside him, Keith knows that he never wants to fly with anyone else.He has always known this, keeps it tucked in the small secret space behind his breastbone, where he feels the sharp sweet tug of flight each time he leaps and lets the sky take him.But there comes a day when Keith can't hide it any longer.
Relationships: Keith/Shiro (Voltron)
Comments: 27
Kudos: 286





	Swiftly Falling (For You)

**Author's Note:**

> Tbh this exists because I've wanted to write a Sheith Avians/Wingfic AU for ages, and I couldn't stop thinking of Shiro & Icarus parallels so HERE'S THIS. (don't worry, keith doesn't let him get too close to the sun)
> 
> follow me for more sheith & shenanigans on twitter [@eledritch (formerly saltyshiro)](https://twitter.com/eledritch)

In moments like these, soaring above the mist-wreathed mountains with Shiro beside him, Keith knows that he never wants to fly with anyone else. 

He has always known this, keeps it tucked in the small secret space behind his breastbone, where he feels the sharp sweet tug of flight each time he leaps and lets the sky take him. 

But it’s harder to deny it now, harder to keep it hidden. Someday, very soon, Keith fears, the time will come when he will feel the frantic pull to find a mate, to build a nest and settle. 

The problem is that Keith has already found his mate. He’s gliding a breeze away on wide white wings barred in black and gleaming silver, each wingbeat graceful and powerful in equal measure. Keith remembers when Shiro had yet to grow into his wings, stumbling and flapping through the trees with ungainly, endearing stubbornness. Keith had been a new fledgling then, peeking out from behind his foster mother’s wings with wide eyes, watching the most beautiful creature he had ever seen laugh and swoop and fall and try, try again, chased by a small posse of others, fluttering after him with adoring eyes and cries. 

Jealousy had risen in Keith’s throat even then, because of course Shiro would be followed, admired. He was everything Keith was not: big and bold and bright and likable, good at making friends and impossible to stay mad at, kind and clever and brilliant at everything he put his mind to. Keith would have been resigned to linger in Shiro’s shadow; maybe he would have even eventually gotten over his hopeless crush – if not for the fact that Shiro did what no one else had.

Shiro saw him, and Shiro didn’t look away.

It had been a flying lesson, of all things. Keith had been practicing on his own, because even before his primary feathers grew in, replacing and covering the soft downy fluff of youth, he had been trying to fly. It exasperated his foster parents to no end. They even threatened to ground him at one point, tie little weights to his ankles or do whatever else it took, but they all knew that Keith would not be stopped, no matter how many bruises, scrapes, and even broken limbs it took. 

Flight was freedom, and Keith needed it with a ferocity that startled even himself.

So, needless to say, he absolutely crushed all the other fledglings in their first lesson. The teacher accused him of showing off, the other fledglings resented him, and one particularly insecure boy set upon him with fists and wings. 

That was his mistake, because although Keith hadn’t practiced fighting like he’d practiced flying, he had a streak of violence in him — it was a defense mechanism, but it still meant that they both ended up bruised and Keith broke the other fledgling’s collarbone. In several places.

Keith was punished, of course. He was punished more harshly than the instigator, of course. Because everyone thought he had instigated it with his fancy flying. 

But the truth was that “showing off” had not even crossed Keith’s mind when he leapt from that branch into the open air. He was just so glad to finally fly and not have to hide it.

Afterwards, Keith did not fly back to his foster family’s nest. He evaded his punishment, the smarting bruises and cuts on his face feeling like punishment enough, and tucked himself into a small empty tree hollow, black wings folded around himself in a protective shell.

He sat there until a familiar face popped up to peer into the hollow and Shiro said, “Hello. I’m Shiro. Are you okay?”

Keith had stiffened, every feather fluffing out in alarm, and Shiro had held up his hands in placation as he settled to perch on the edge of the hollow. His beautiful wings covered most of the entrance, and maybe Keith should have felt trapped, but the warm feeling that settled over him when Shiro looked at him and sat so close was not a bad one.

“I know who you are,” Keith had said, sniffing and rubbing his eyes, beyond embarrassed to be seen this way by Shiro, of all people. “I — I’m sorry, is this your hollow? I can go —”

Shiro’s eyes had widened. “No, no, no!” he exclaimed. “Don’t worry, it’s not my hollow. I just wanted to — listen, it’s Keith, right?” Keith had nodded, mute and shocked and sure he was dreaming because Shiro knew his name? “Well, Keith, I wanted to tell you that your flying was incredible today. Seriously. I’ve never seen anything like it.”

Keith’s feathers fluffed up more, for a different reason, this time. “Really?” he had whispered.

“Really. And I don’t think you were trying to show off. You don’t strike me as a show-off.” He had raised an eyebrow.

“I wasn’t,” Keith had said, quiet and painfully honest. “I just...really like to fly.”

“Yeah?” Shiro had smiled, and it was like a beam of sunshine in that dim hollow. “Me too, Keith. Me, too.” He tapped his own cheekbone. “Need some help patching that up? My grandma has a million salves and things to speed up the healing and make it stop hurting. It’s no trouble, I promise.”

“Thank you, Shiro.” Keith had smiled back, sure he would wake up from the dream at any moment.

He still hasn’t woken up, apparently.

That had been years ago. They’ve been joined at the hip ever since, and truthfully Keith has no idea why Shiro puts up with him. But he does, and Keith won’t jinx it. He may not get to be Shiro’s mate, but he gets to be Shiro’s friend,  _ he gets to fly with Shiro,  _ and Keith tells himself that is enough. It has to be. 

They land together in a towering sequoia, one of the oldest, and take out the food they packed for their flight, munching berries and nuts and pieces of jerky together from their comfortable perch. Shiro is talking about someone, someone he’s interested in. It wouldn’t be the first time. Keith half-listens, only because to listen fully would hurt too much, and it’s far more soothing to focus on the way Shiro’s mouth moves, on the shine of his lower lip and the earnest spark of his eyes. 

But he’s caught before too long. “Keith,” Shiro says, waving a hand in front of his face and frowning. “Keith, hey. You with me?”

Keith swallows, wings curling close. His are small, dark, pointed; meant for speed and secrecy, not like Shiro’s. “Yes,” Keith says. He wets his lips. “Sorry, Shiro.”

Shiro shuffles closer on the branch and touches his shoulder. It takes all the self-control Keith has not to whine. He has never liked being touched, but Shiro – everything is good, with Shiro.

“Head in the clouds?” Shiro jokes, cheesy as always, and grins, crooked and so, so sweet. 

“Yeah,” Keith admits. He looks up at Shiro, biting his lip. He wants to say it, but how can he? 

Shiro hums. It makes his wingtips vibrate, and Keith feels the gentle brush of them, silky and light across his forearm. “Well, what about you?” Shiro asks. He tilts his head. “You have your eye on anyone?” He peers at Keith, expression suddenly turning stern, though it’s all in play. “You would tell me, wouldn’t you?”

“Yes,” Keith says at once. He shivers. “I mean – I haven’t felt the call, yet. I’d tell you if I – when I did, Shiro.”

The truth  _ will _ have to come out someday. Keith can already imagine it: Shiro’s face falling, his wings pulling away in polite rejection, his feathers never again allowing themselves to touch Keith’s.  _ We’re friends, Keith, _ Shiro will say,  _ but that’s all, okay? It can’t be more than that. _

And Keith would say,  _ Yes, Shiro, of course, you’re right. I’m sorry. You’re right.  _

And the next day – or maybe that night – he would be gone. Shiro might miss him, even after the confession, but he would move on, in time. Keith doesn’t belong here; this forest isn’t his. The colony found him on the forest floor as a hatchling, crumpled in a ball of pale skin and black feathers, and a family took him in, raised him with their clutch, but they’re not his family. 

Sometimes, Keith dreams of a vast red desert with an endless blue sky and knows, in that same secret space behind his breastbone, that this is where he comes from. When Shiro pushes him away, Keith plans to return there.

He has no family here. None, that is, except for Shiro. And Keith’s already resigned himself to losing him.

Maybe some of this future is too obvious in Keith’s face, because Shiro makes a low sound, a coo that Keith feels in his damn bones. Shiro has a way about him that is inexplicably soothing. Keith has always been helpless to it. 

“Hey,” Shiro whispers, “you don’t have to tell me, you know. I just…” He smiles, small, almost nervous. “You deserve someone special, Keith. I know you aren’t the type to want to settle down – neither am I, but...it’s about more than that.”

Keith looks away; he can’t meet Shiro’s eyes when he says in a voice that sounds bitter even to his own ears, “Is that what you’re learning, with Adam?”

Shiro pulls back and blinks. “Adam?” he repeats, smile falling, brow lowering.  _ “Wow, _ you _ really  _ weren’t listening, were you.”

Keith flinches and glances back at him, shoulders hunched. “I...what?”

“Adam’s out of the roost; I’m not courting him anymore,” Shiro retorts, ruffling his feathers and getting to his feet with a huff. “That’s what I was just telling you. Nevermind. We’d better get back.” 

“Wait,” Keith gasps, stumbling to his feet, nearly slipping off of the branch, which makes Shiro start forward, clasping his forearm to brace him. They both stand there, facing each other, wings outspread. Shiro’s expression is unreadable save for the worry threaded in his brow. 

“Yes?” Shiro asks, quiet...wary?

Keith stares up at him. “I’m sorry,” he says. “I wasn’t listening this time, but, I mean, I listened before, and I know he meant a lot to you. And you deserve someone special too, Shiro.” He hesitates. “If there’s anything I can do, to help, I will.”

Shiro regards him for a long moment, then releases his arm, so suddenly that Keith has to flap his wings to keep his balance. “Anything?” Shiro repeats, a mischievous gleam in his eye. 

Keith’s heart pounds. “Yes.”

“Hm,” Shiro says. “Race you to the waterfall, then!” And he dives off the side of the branch, into perfectly controlled freefall. 

Keith follows him.

Of course he does. 

Keith loves flying like nothing else – except Shiro – but flying like this is even better. More dangerous, definitely. More fun, absolutely. It’s just the two of them, darting and diving through the ancient trees, dodging branches and screeching birds and huge hissing jungle snakes and startled monkeys and even a jaguar prowling the treetops, which Shiro taunts with a quick flash of dazzling white and black wings which leaves the jaguar snarling and stunned in their wake. 

Shiro is fearless, and when Keith is with him like this, he forgets how to be afraid, too. 

Keith is fast and good at navigating the dense tangle of the forest, but Shiro is the more powerful flyer, and his stamina is unmatched as far as Keith’s concerned. Keith never goes easy on Shiro — just as he knows Shiro would never go easy on him — but admittedly, Keith does often get distracted by the mere sight of Shiro in flight. He can’t be blamed for that. Shiro swoops and glides with a combination of focus and delight that is breathtaking to behold. 

But Keith isn’t gonna get distracted this time. Shiro needs focus from him, so Keith will bring it. 

Out of the two of them, there’s one area that Keith excels in over Shiro every time: dives.

It’s the shape of their wings, Shiro says — his are big and broad and great for long flights and powerful beats, but Keith’s sharply angled edges and long, slim primaries are ideal for plunging towards the earth at breakneck speeds. 

Keith is vaguely familiar with this area of the forest. They’ve raced many times before, and their tracks often overlap. If his guess about the upcoming terrain is right, then he’ll have a chance at winning this. A year ago, he wouldn’t have had a chance at all. 

But Keith’s getting better.

When he pulls slightly ahead of Shiro, whirling through the labyrinthine path of vines and branches and leaves and creatures, he banks sharply to the left, changing their racecourse. In his peripherals, Shiro banks with him, easily following and quickly gaining again, his face set in an expression of determined delight. 

“I’m gonna pass you!” Shiro warns, and indeed, under normal circumstances, he would.

But these are not normal circumstances. Keith doesn’t answer, just surges on ahead in a burst of speed and energy that takes Shiro by surprise. 

It takes him by surprise even more when, a few moments later, the trees drop off into a massive cliff, easily ten sequoias high. 

“Oh, you brilliant  _ brat,”  _ Shiro breathes at the top as his wings pull him up short.

Glowing with pride, Keith doesn’t wait to hear the rest before hurling himself off the edge and into perfect oblivion. The wind tears through his hair and stings his eyes and his wings burn, folded tight and close to his carefully angled body, but it’s exactly right. 

Below them, the forest gives way to the lowlands, and then just before them lie the mountains they began above. If he were looking up, Keith might see the dark gray clouds gathering above the peaks, their thundering cloaks draped heavy over white summits. But all Keith can see is the earth rising up to meet him, faster, faster, until his wings  _ snap _ out at the exact second he needs. 

The sound of his feathers catching the full brunt of his fall is loud, and the strain of his wings is going to make him damn sore tomorrow, but he exits the dive swiftly to continue the race, glancing over his shoulder to see if Shiro has followed.

He has, but more slowly, just as Keith had hoped.

“Try to keep up!” Keith yells back at him. “Are you losing your touch?”

“You’re playing dirty!” Shiro shouts back. Keith can hear the laughter in his voice, but there’s a challenge there, too. “But two can play that game!”

Before Keith can ask what he means, Shiro swoops past him and, instead of flying low and parallel to the wooded hills as Keith was, he throws himself upwards into the sky, each wingbeat fighting the wind, showing off the raw strength of his wings and body. His upward trajectory is at an angle so steep and fast that most would find it absolutely impossible to even attempt. Keith grits his teeth. Yeah, he’s playing dirty, alright.

But Keith follows.

(Of course he does.)

Straining after him, Keith flies into the wind, and it’s only when they’re quite a ways up that he really notices how much wind there is, too much, and sees the dark clouds that have been benignly bearing down on them. Shiro is still aiming for the heavens and will settle for nothing less, it seems, and Keith struggles to keep up, no longer thinking of the race. 

“Shiro!” he yells. “Looks like a storm!”

“We’ve flown in storms before!” Shiro shouts back, faint, too faint for Keith’s comfort. He has an awful feeling in his gut, and as the clouds grow nearer and darker, the feeling begins to claw its way up Keith’s throat. 

Each wingbeat is beginning to hurt and the air is getting thinner, but he has to reach Shiro, or — or what? Keith doesn’t know, but he knows he doesn’t want to find out.

“Shiro, let’s land,” Keith pleads, “you win, okay! You win!”

Shiro falters, suspended in the clouded sky above him for a bewildered moment. He opens his mouth to call back, his wings drawing in for a descent —

— and then Keith is blinded by a hundred searing tongues of lightning. They arc through the sky, thunder booming with their arrival, electricity branching in a deadly mirror of the trees beneath them. The air tastes like ozone and burnt feathers and Keith blinks his watering eyes and the afterimage on his retinas is of Shiro, Shiro illuminated by the lightning as it strikes him, entering through his right shoulder and plucking him from the sky in an instant, filling him with the ruinous power of a hundred stars.

Keith screams until his voice threatens to bleed, and in the uneasy, charged darkness before the next strike he surges forward, disoriented and terrified, his wings crumpling as he enters a clumsy freefall; he hasn’t stopped screaming Shiro’s name. 

And then his dive is intercepted, white and black feathers and a larger body knocking him off-kilter. He would go tumbling if not for the arms wrapping around him, huge white wings spread wide over him as Keith blinks back furious tears and stares at the impossibility of Shiro above him, his eyes round and concerned, cradling Keith under him like a fledgling, gliding him safely back down to the ground. 

Keith is still crying by the time they touch down, and clutches Shiro’s arm, just to make sure the flesh doesn't crumble away into ash in his grasp. “Shiro,” he gasps, sobs,  _ “Shiro.” _

“Keith, hey, it’s okay, I’m here.” Shiro cups his face, wiping the tears away with his thumbs. His brow furrows and his wings create an umbrella over them, blocking out the rain as it begins to fall, the thunder muffled, distant, but not distant enough to banish the vision from Keith’s mind. “What is it, what’s wrong, are you hurt? Keith, talk to me…”

Keith shakes, words catching in his throat because  _ Shiro is alive, Shiro is here with him, Shiro is okay,  _ but in the space between the lightning he  _ wasn’t.  _ And in that space Keith realized that he was wrong. He thought that he could leave Shiro. He thought he could just fly away, forever. 

He knows now that he can’t, not if it feels like that, he can’t, he can’t, and he doesn’t know how to say any of this so instead he just whispers, “I thought — I saw you die, I saw you leave me; please don’t leave me, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,  _ Shiro.” _

“Shh, shh, hey...I’m right here, and there’s nothing to apologize for,” Shiro says, leaning closer, his face so soft, so open and it just makes Keith cry harder. 

“But there is,” Keith sobs, saying it before he can stop himself, before the lightning really does find its mark. “I was going to leave, Shiro; I was going to go away from the colony and from you and I — I don’t want to, even if you want me to, I thought it would be for the best but I don’t think I can do that —”

Shiro’s hands slide down from his face to squeeze his shoulders, right beside where his wings sprout, holding him fast. “Leave? Keith, what are you talking about? I don’t want you to leave. Why would I ever want you to leave? Why would you think such a thing?” 

He sounds so distressed, voice rising, and Keith’s heart hurts all the more hearing it, but he can’t keep this from Shiro anymore. No matter what. “Because I love you,” Keith gasps. 

Shiro’s face freezes, then crumples, and Keith feels his heart crumple with it.

“Oh, Keith,” Shiro whispers, and kisses him. 

Still breathless from falling, Keith can only cling, eyes wide and mouth open, and when Shiro pulls back, brow furrowed, Keith just stares at him. His wings are shivering. He’s soaked to the bone and feverish at the same time. His lips tingle where the touch of Shiro’s lips linger, and his chest carries the imprint of warmth from Shiro’s body pressed up against his own. 

“I’m not leaving,” Shiro says, and when he pulls Keith into a hug, his canopied wings now brushing the top of Keith’s head, he repeats it into the curve of Keith’s neck, softer, but no less a promise than before. “Come on,” he says when Keith keeps trembling, clings harder. “Let’s get out of the rain, okay?”

Keith nods, still numb and awash with heat, and Shiro guides him in a low flight through the trees and hills, towards the base of the mountains. They find a cave there, small but as cozy as a cave can be, and as soon as they’re out of the rain, Shiro tugs Keith closer to him, holding his shoulders again – almost holding his wings, which makes Keith shiver harder – and says, “I love you, too. I don’t want you to leave. You thought I’d want you to, if I found out?”

Keith can’t help himself; he shuffles a little closer, so that he’s nearly in Shiro’s lap, Shiro sitting up against the cave wall, wings lazily spread and drying against it. “Yes,” Keith admits, so low it’s nearly lost in the sound of the rain. “I thought…” He exhales, reaches out, fingers pausing and curling a hairsbreadth from Shiro’s cheek, afraid to touch, because that will make it real. “Say it again?”

Shiro tilts his head. His eyes are dark; darker than Keith has ever seen them, but they’re fond, too...impossibly fond. “I love you, too,” Shiro repeats. The words echo sweetly in the cave, filling the space, filling Keith’s mind, and he can’t stop himself from whining, very softly. Shiro’s eyes get a little bit darker, and he’s the one who reaches out without stopping, cupping Keith’s cheek so that his entire hand cradles Keith’s face, his thumb drifts to press against Keith’s lips. “And if you had told me,” Shiro adds, “I would have done everything in my power to make you stay.” 

“I’ll stay,” Keith says, and lets his fingers touch Shiro’s cheek, dance along his jaw and settle. “I’m staying. With you.”

He’s the one who kisses Shiro this time, and Shiro welcomes it with a sigh, angling their mouths with a practice Keith lacks. When Keith licks into his mouth Shiro shudders, and his hand lifts away from Keith’s face to land once more on his shoulders, joining the other hand. It’s easy then for Keith to climb fully into Shiro’s lap, tangled up with him, and he can feel Shiro squirm against him, feels Shiro’s arousal hard and huge against his thigh. The realization that he would have such an effect on Shiro is almost more bewildering than the declaration of love, and Keith falters, breaking the kiss, face hot as a string of spit connects their lips. 

He wipes it away and glances up, noticing that Shiro is shivering, too, his jaw held tight and wings taut. Keith flinches back and ducks his head. “Sorry,” he whispers. “I didn’t mean – if that was too much – I can stop.”

Shiro’s hands on his shoulders slide up to grasp his wings and Keith is hard so fast he’s dizzy, blinking at Shiro. Shiro seems to realize what he’s done and releases Keith with an apologetic, strained smile. 

“It’s not that it’s too much, Keith,” Shiro says. “It’s that I want you so bad I can hardly stand it.”

Keith swallows thickly, and then, without breaking eye contact, he takes Shiro’s hands and brings them back to the root of his wings, letting them both feel the weight of their placement. “Then take me,” he says. 

It’s a challenge, as so many things with them are. 

Shiro doesn’t ask him if he’s sure. Keith thinks Shiro’s already seen the answer to that in Keith’s desperation in the lightning, and maybe, just maybe, Shiro’s desperation matches his own, because the next moment white wings beat the air and Shiro surges forward, capturing Keith fully, though truth be told he always had him. 

Some of Keith’s worst nightmares have been of clipped wings and weighted nets; their kind fear the threat of being grounded, of their wings being taken, like nothing else. But when Shiro holds Keith’s wings fast, there is nowhere else Keith would rather be. He feels his wings jerk once in instinctive protest, but as soon as Shiro is on him, smothering him in kisses and feathers and familiar warmth, his wings fall slack. 

There’s nothing to fly away from, here.

Not anymore.

Keith has not often let himself imagine how Shiro would kiss him, because it’s painful to imagine things that will never come to pass. But in the few times he did allow those fantasies, or the times when he could not stop them, he imagined Shiro would be gentle, but firm, slow and steady like a perfect breeze.

In reality, Shiro is a storm.

His kiss is bruising and Keith opens to it, already breathless all over again, but this time when he falls it’s welcome, because Shiro catches him, Keith’s legs wrapping around his hips, Shiro’s wings wrapping around them both. Shiro releases one of Keith’s wings to slide a hand up and under his shirt, teasing at his hardening nipples and chuckling against Keith’s lips when Keith gasps and moans at the new, unexpected sensation of raw pleasure sparking up his spine. 

Then Shiro breaks the kiss to talk, low, silken words coupled by his hands on Keith, divesting him of his pants now, until he’s nearly bare in Shiro’s lap, down to his underclothes. “No one has touched you like this before,” Shiro murmurs, dragging his teeth along Keith’s throat, “have they?”

“No,” Keith gasps, wings fluttering uselessly as Shiro’s hips rock up against him, encouraging him to grind down, to share in the sweet friction. “I never — never wanted anyone else to touch me like this except — except for you.”

For a moment Shiro falters and Keith worries he was too honest. All worry dissipates when Shiro kisses him again, hard and frantic. “How did I get so lucky?” Shiro whispers, smoothing Keith’s hair back from his face, something stunned and awed in his face; Keith reddens and warms under his admiring gaze. “I can’t believe...this whole time, I could have had you?” 

“You’ve always had me,” Keith says.

“Not like this.” Shiro’s hands frame his hips, one palm sliding over his ass, the other inching towards Keith’s trapped cock. “Gods, I was such a fool. If I had known — but I never thought — how long?”

Keith lets himself nestle against Shiro, resting his head on Shiro’s broad chest, over his heartbeat. “Since the first moment I saw you flying,” Keith admits.

Shiro swears, softly. His lips brush Keith’s ear, and Keith is surrounded in white feathers and strong arms. “I want to court you,” he says.

Keith’s own feathers fluff up and quiver in delight and disbelief. “I want to court you, too. Please.” Then he hesitates, fear taking hold of him again. “But — you courted Adam, too…”  _ And that ended,  _ he doesn’t say. _ I don’t want this to end. Please, don’t let it end. _

Shiro tilts Keith’s chin up so that Keith meets his eye. His expression is soft, yet determined. “This isn’t like that,” Shiro tells him. “What I felt for Adam — Keith, it doesn’t even hold a candle to you.” He traces the startled curve of Keith’s lips. “I want to court you, but only because you deserve to be courted properly, not because I want to be sure. I am sure, Keith. If you are.”

“You want,” Keith starts, and stops, pressing closer, heart pounding, breath caught. “Yes. Yes, I’m sure.”

Their kind mate for life. 

“Good,” Shiro sighs. “Because yes, I want. So, so much. Gods, look at you. Do you have any idea how lovely you are?”

Keith has never been placed in close proximity with the word “lovely.” He burns as Shiro looks at him like he really is lovely, burns ever hotter as Shiro starts touching him again. 

Shiro watches his face, not moving slowly but with purpose, and when he shoves Keith’s underclothes off and takes Keith’s cock in his hand Keith whimpers and bows against him, wings tucked close to his back like a shield. “So lovely,” Shiro tells him, stroking his cock without teasing, his hand enveloping the entire length, squeezing just right. If he’s trying to make Keith come, it’s working. But then he asks, “What do you want, Keith? My hand? Mouth? More?” 

Keith whines. “I — anything, Shiro.” He swallows, glances up, his cock twitching in Shiro’s sure grip. “You,” he gasps, “inside me, I want that, want you to, and then— I want you to teach me how to fuck you, too, please, I want to make you feel good —”

“You already do,” Shiro groans, and guides Keith’s hand to his tented pants. Keith can feel his hard cock but he can also feel that it’s wet, leaking and dampening the fabric. He must be aching. 

“Can I,” Keith asks, already tugging on the waistband of Shiro’s pants, mouth watering and thighs pressing together in anticipation. He  _ has  _ fantasized about  _ this.  _ Thoroughly.

“Yeah,” Shiro says, and helps him, unbuttoning and shrugging off his shirt, too, and then Shiro is on display, his cock jutting up, thick and hot in Keith’s hands. Shiro’s wings jolt as Keith strokes him, trying to mirror Shiro’s movements. Both of them keep getting distracted with kissing each other, and then Shiro’s fingers on his ass slip over his hole, once on accident and the second time far less accidental. 

Keith arches into it, biting back a protest when Shiro lets go of his cock. It’s worth it for Shiro’s fingers when they return spit-slicked, sliding into him with less resistance than either of them expected. “Baby,” Shiro gasps, fingers pressing deeper, curling as Keith shudders and bears down on them. “Oh, fuck. You really do want this, hm?”

“Yes,” Keith says, tipping his head back as Shiro adds a finger, stretching him wide, but not as wide as Shiro’s cock will. “Please. More, more.”

Shiro’s fingers tease at his rim this time, taking turns opening him up until Keith’s cock is dripping and he’s beyond pleading, his words replaced by frustrated, needy little growls. “Okay, okay,” Shiro laughs when Keith smacks him with a wing and bares his teeth as Shiro starts another round of teasing. Keith’s heart stutters at his laughter, at the reminder of their familiarity. This may be new, but Shiro isn’t. 

And when Shiro finally fills him, that may be new, but Keith feels like he’s been waiting for it for a long time. He’s so distracted by the devastating ache of Shiro’s cock inside him, by the way each thrust tugs at his tender hole, by the sounds Shiro makes as Keith tightens and shudders around him, that it takes him a moment to place the soothing, contented weight in his chest and the low, pleased coo he finds himself making, almost a purr. It’s his call. He’s never let himself make it before, though he feared Shiro would bring it out eventually.

And now he has, and Keith isn’t afraid at all.

When Shiro hears it, he presses Keith down on the soft blanket of their tangled wings and fucks into him hard enough to make Keith’s coo break off into shaky whines, louder and louder until he’s keening every time Shiro sinks home. Shiro answers in kind, cooing back and nuzzling into Keith’s hair, into his throat, biting at his chest and dragging his tongue over pebbled nipples as Keith writhes and cries out. 

Keith’s cock, trapped between them, is untouched, and Keith doesn’t ask Shiro to touch it, because he wants to come just from Shiro inside him, Shiro calling back to him, Shiro kissing him in between praises and curses. He thinks doing so might make him fall apart at the seams, but what a way to go. 

When he does come it’s sudden and overwhelming in the best sense — Shiro fucks into him hard enough to make his wings buckle, stiffening before falling limp against the stone while Keith sobs and comes all over himself, cock pulsing with each sharp thrust of Shiro inside of him. Pleasure curls heavy and rippling in his gut, bordering on too much; Shiro doesn’t stop fucking him even after the climax has subsided, and Keith is reduced to a puddle of needy feeling beneath him, legs hitched up and spread wide, as wide as they can go. 

“Shiro,” he gasps, “ah – come inside me, please, please…” His pleading tapers off into soft babbles and then softer coos as Shiro finally does, burying his cock deep and holding Keith open, filling him to the brim and then some. Cum leaks out over Keith’s swollen rim and he moans when Shiro drags his finger through it, pulling out only to dive back in with his tongue. Keith trembles through it, toes curling and wings flapping uselessly against the ground as Shiro licks him open, his chin messy with spit and his own cum by the time he lifts his head. 

“Baby,” Shiro growls, staring at his cum-streaked belly, and Keith looks with him and finds his cock is hard again, twitching and greedy for more, with Shiro, he always wants more, and always will. Shiro does touch his cock now, rubbing the slick tip between thumb and forefinger, coaxing a pearl of precum to dribble from it. “Do you still want to fuck me?” Shiro asks, already straddling Keith’s prone body, looking down at him with intent. His mussed silver forelock falls into his face, his chest is flushed pink and shining with sweat, and his wings are a disaster as they arch over the two of them. He’s the most beautiful thing Keith has ever seen.

“Yes,” Keith gasps, and then, louder, when Shiro grins, all teeth, and sinks down on his cock without so much as a finger to ease the way, “yes, Shiro,  _ Shiro!” _

“I’ve got you,” Shiro groans, his body so tight around Keith’s cock that they can both barely handle it. Keith’s hips are already moving, jerking up to fuck into him in helpless little thrusts, and Shiro helps him, riding him shallow and desperate, tipping his head back with another deep groan. When Keith reaches up to slide his hands over Shiro’s heaving chest and grab at his wings, Shiro’s softening cock jolts. 

Noticing it, and half to distract himself from how divine Shiro feels atop him, Keith touches his wings again, more gently this time, stroking the huge white feathers and running his fingers through the black-speckled down. He’s always admired Shiro’s wings – Keith appreciates his own small, sleek wings now, but he had longed to know what it would feel like to possess such powerful wings as Shiro’s. He can settle for just being allowed to fondle them, though, especially when it makes Shiro fall to pieces, biting his lip and groaning with every new caress. 

“Could you come again, just from this?” Keith muses, his voice breathless but loud enough for Shiro to hear it and grunt, face red and wings pushing up into Keith’s touch. He tightens around Keith’s cock and Keith savors the feeling, still sore and open, still aching for anything, everything. “I think – you could,” Keith sighs, scratching at pearly pinions and creamy coverts, running his palms over the sleek curve of soft underwing and the strong join of wing to body. 

“You,” Shiro starts, and never finishes the sentence, letting the word hang, suspended and shivering between them. Keith’s grip on his wings tightens and he uses them them to brace himself as he fucks up into Shiro, again and again until Shiro is sundering and squirming and Keith can see all his bravado fall away into something bright and vulnerable and he thinks,  _ you’re mine _ , and the thought feels as natural as flight. 

They separate only for Keith to crawl back between Shiro’s spread thighs, smoothing his hands over spread wings, spreading Shiro open to rut into him with a lazy, shuddering pace. “I’m not leaving,” Keith tells him in the wet, clinging space between kisses, Shiro’s mouth now slack and open, yielding and sweet. “Never, never.” Shiro doesn’t reply, but holds him very tightly with his entire body, inside and out, legs embracing Keith’s hips and arms wrapped around his wings, dark and light feathers scattered all around them. Keith fucks him for what feels like forever, but in reality is only until Shiro comes with a cry both broken and musical. Keith doesn’t have to ask to know it’s his call. It echoes through him as he follows Shiro over the edge, off the precipice and into ecstatic vertigo. 

When Keith closes his eyes, in the electric shivers of climax he sees the lightning again, but only for a moment, and then Shiro is right beside him, untouched by its silver talons. 

They lay together in the quiet of the cave. It’s still raining. Shiro’s feathers smell like sweat and petrichor and Keith kisses them until Shiro kisses him, instead. 

“I’m with you,” Shiro murmurs into the curve of his cheek, enclosing Keith in his wings once more.

And when Keith dreams of a red desert and an endless blue sky, Shiro is with him there, too. 


End file.
